Lennie's Return
by the Last Flowerchild
Summary: A funny story that me and a bunch of friends made up in English after reading Of Mice and Men. 10 years after George shot Lennie Smalls a string of murders begins making headlines and Lennie's death begins to haunt George's thoughts.
1. Chapter 1

Many years had passed since the fateful day George had shot Lennie Smalls dead in the back of the head. The Depression had passed and Curley had shut the ranch down soon after his wife had died. Although all of the ranch hands had gone their separate ways for the most part, Lennie was unceremoniously buried in the earth.

About a decade had passed before the Curley's old ranch was finally demolished. As the machinery moved in to finish the job, deep down in the Earth's crust, Lennie felt the vibrations and heard the voices. Restlessly he covered his ears against the deafening noises, then a rage overcame him. Grunting and growling he began to dig himself out of his cold, tight-packed grave.

Over on the other side of the ranch two men stood looking around the old ranch. One with a bristly, walrus-like mustache and big, bushy eyebrows sighed.

"This place is old." he said.

His partner, a man with a big gut nodded and took a sip of the beer that he held in his hand. "Yep."

"S'ppose it's jus' time to tear her down."

"Yep."

As the two men talked, a cracking came from the bushes. They whirled around and saw a giant, lumbering figure making its way towards them. The big-gutted man dropped his beer and pointed at the giant.

Out of the shadows stepped the late Lennie Smalls. In his grizzled and filthy hands, which were more like giant animal paws, he held a dead puppy. His large, clumsy hands stroked it. Blood was crusted in his fingernails. Abruptly he took a step towards the two men.

"Shit." the man with the walrus-mustache said as Lennie took another step forward. His partner scoffed and walked right up to the zombie.

"Now lookie here, Sonny Jim. We're here to do a job. Ya got that? Now go take your weed and rock-and-roll music somewhere else."

Lennie raised his eyebrows, looking utterly confused. "George?"

"George? Who the hell's he?" the fat man asked his him.

His partner cleared his throat. "Ummm... Donnie? Maybe ya should just let 'im be. Don't seem like he means much harm, after all."

Lennie smiled then grabbed the fat man, Donnie, by his shoulders and wrapped his large, beast-like fingers around his neck. He turned a bright shade of red as his air was abruptly cut off.

"Murphy! Help!" he gasped to his partner who just stood where he was, looking horrified. The giant who was strangling him suddenly looked scared.

"No! Don't shout! George won' let me tend them rabbits!"

"R-r-rabbits?" Murphy asked as his partner struggled the big man's grasp.

Lennie nodded frantically. "Oh yeah. Me an' George is gonna go off and buy us a ranch and live off the fat of the land!" his voice was getting more excited, his grip tighter until the fat man turned purple and went completely limp. Lennie looked at the corpse surprised and dropped it to the ground, into the dirt.

Murphy's breath became shuddery. "I-I-I...stay back! I'll-I'll call the po'lice!"

Lennie looked panicked again and before the man could do anything, he put one hand over his mouth. Murphy could taste the dirt and blood. Smell the scent of decay.

"No! No! If you do that then George won' let me tend them rabbits! The rabbits! Them there rabbits..."

Murphy's eyes widened and he began to struggle. The man was totally _nuts._ But, gradually, Lennie's animal-like strength prevailed, and he dropped Murphy on the ground as well. Next to his partner. Then he wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Lennie looked down at the two corpses. He began to feel nervous; this was how he had gotten into so much trouble last time...and last time he had payed for his mistake with his life.

One thought was more clear than any other; _he must find George. _So, with the big, lumbering steps of a bear, he made his way off of the ranch, past the brush, and towards the highway.


	2. Chapter 2

_Guys like us that work on ranches are the loneliest guys in the world. They ain't got no family and they don't belong no place. They got nothin' to look ahead to...  
_

_But not us George. Tell about us.  
_

_ ...well, we ain't like that. We got a future. We got somebody to talk to that gives a damn about us. If them other guys gets in jail they can rot for all anybody cares.  
_

_But not us, George, because I... see, I got you to look after me, but you got me to look after you._

Suddenly George awoke. He rubbed his sleepy eyes then slowly opened them. Slim, the former ranch skinner stood hovering above him. His glossy, long black hair shined in the early morning sun that was peeking in from a nearby window.

"You was..."

George sighed and put his straw hat on his head. "Havin' a nightmare. But it was jus' a dream, noways." his stomach rumbled noisily. George smacked his lips, smiled at Slim and stretched.

"So where's breakfast?"

Slim wasn't fooled. He sat down on the opposite side of George's bed. "Ya know it's been nearly ten years...ten years and ya still wake up with the same god damned nightmare."

He sighed and ran his fingers through his fiery orange hair. "Yeah. I know. It's not an easy thing to get over. He was my responsibility."

"Your responsibility or your burden? There's a fine line, George. A mighty fine line."

"Yeah but...jeez. It was-it still jus-"

Suddenly two other former ranch hands burst into the room loudly. Whit and Carlson smiled as they saw that George was finally awake.

Whit pushed his battered glasses farther up on his crooked nose. "Well lookie what we have her'! What a cute couple!" he said.

Slim frowned at this inside joke; over the past year or so his sexual preference had become obvious. The big tip off had been when Carlson had discovered Slim with another man.

Whit's smile faded. He turned to George. "So ya finally awake, sleepin' beauty?"

Carlson stood by the doorway and turned to Slim. "Haven't you heard? There's a killer on the loose."

Slim rose to his feet and took a step towards Carlson, who stepped back and nearly cowered. Carlson was homophobic.

"Oh really?" Slim asked him.

"Yes, really," Whit said turning away from George, "two guys who were supposed ta tear down Curley's ol' ranch were strangled. Jus' like Curley's wife."

George's ears perked up. Lennie had killed Curley's wife. Slim's calm eyes stared at him solemnly.

"P'robly jus' a copycat killer."

Carlson laughed nervously, trying not to look at Slim. "Yeah well maybe it was Jack the Ripper."

Whit laughed. Slim sighed. He was getting quite fed up with their sense of humor so turning to them he said, "Well, I suppose its high time that ol' George here got some breakfast."

The two men stopped laughing. Whit pushed his glasses back up on the bridge of his nose. "Well... the thing is that we were real hungry this mornin' and..."

Slim frowned and put his long arms on his hips. "Well you better _find _somethin' for George to eat." they stood there staring for a second. "Now!"


	3. Chapter 3

Indeed, things had really changed in the last ten years. Slim had become a homosexual, Carlson had become homophobic, and Candy had gotten himself a new male Dobie Pinscher named Sugar.

As George walked into the raggedy kitchen the sounds of cooking bacon greeted him. Over by the stove Carlson and Whit were busy making some more eggs and bacon for him to eat. Slim sat nearby at the kitchen table looking amused as they split some grease and cursed. Candy sat hunched over, feeding little scraps of bacon to Sugar. George sat at the end of the table, by himself.

Over by the stove Whit cursed as a splotch of bacon grease spilled all over his hand. He began jumping up and down frantically, waving his hand in the air. "God damn it! Slim help!"

Slim laughed and shook his head. "No. Didn't say _please."_

Carlson turned and yelled back, "Fine! _Please _help us."

Slim shook his head again. "Nope. Shouldn't have eaten all the food."

Nearby Candy laughed. "Got yer'selves ina jam don't ya, boys?"

George sighed and got up to help the two men make his breakfast. He didn't feel like waiting anymore.

Once it was all over and the plate of eggs and bacon had successfully been brought to the table, Whit had acquired a blistered hand and Carlson had been rewarded with a bruised ego. George got the food and ate it quickly. Once they were all at their accustomed places at the table Candy cleared his throat.

"Ya know Slim, there's been some murders goin on..."

"Yeah, I know."

"...and I jus' figured that I could keep Sugar in the house for a little while. To keep 'im safe an all."

Carlson started. "Oh hell no! I'm allergic! C'mon Slim! Ya know I got _allergies_._"_

Whit nodded and pushed his glasses up on his nose. "Besides, itsa big dog. Tear the place up."

Slim sighed and rubbed his forehead with his long, thin fingers. "I'm tired. Don' give a damn what ya' do with your godforsaken dog, Candy. I gots me a headache."

The table grew silent. The only sound was of George's silverware clinking against the plates. Whit cleared his throat.

"Well, ain't no chance the killer'd come here noways. This just a small town."

Carlson nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Ain't nothin' for him here, Candy."

George sighed and put his fork down. The others looked at him.

"What's wrong, George?" Candy asked as he patted Sugar on the head.

He shrugged. "Nothin'. Just full is all."


	4. Chapter 4

Lennie was close to George. He could feel it. Suddenly, a car came driving from out of the morning mist. He gasped and quickly jumped into a nearby patch of bushes; no one could see him. He had done enough bad. Besides, maybe if he found George soon he could still take care of the rabbits. Nearby a little squirrel made its way down a tree and slowly towards the highway. Lennie's eyes grew wide.

Without hesitation, Lennie jumped out of the bush and into the middle of the road, trying to stop the oncoming car. The car honked loudly but he still didn't move. It served off the road and into the trees. The squirrel twitched it's little ears then scuttled away. Lennie, however, still stood there, rooted to the spot, terrified at what had just happened.

A man, wearing a fine, crisp business suit came staggering out of the forest. He pointed at Lennie.

"You? Wh-How coul- Who are you? Are you some kind of mentally defective person?"

Lennie stood there looking quite puzzled. "I-umm. I'm a'lookin for George. He promised me, he said-"

The man took a step forward so that he was a little more than a foot away from his face. "I don't give a damn what _George _said! S'far as I'm concerned about he can rot in hell. But what about my car? How am I supposed to-"

But Lennie had cut him off. "Don't you put no hurt on George! Don't you dare-"

"I'll put hurt on whoever I wanna put hurt on to get my car fixed!" the man growled. Lennie's eyes grew wide. _No one should ever put no hurt on George!_

The man continued talking even as Lennie wrapped his monstrous hands around his throat. The man gasped.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

Tears began to drip down from Lennie's decayed cheeks. "Y-y-you promised hurt on George....ain't no one gonna hurt George! He ain't done nothin'" he almost sounded as afraid as the man he was strangling.

Eventually, after about five or ten minutes of Lennie standing there, sobbing and strangling the man, he lowered his arms and released his grip. A ring of purple bruised were faintly visible on the dead man's neck. Lennie stared at the corpse until he felt something brush past his foot. His feet flew up. With a scared little yelp, he turned and looked down.

Under his cracked and broken shoe lay a crushed squirrel. He began to cry all over again as he picked up the dead rodent and stuffed it in his pocket. It's tail was still bushy and fun to pet. And soon, he quite forgot the corpse and began walking down the road. After a few steps, however, his attention was brought to yet another thing.

Off in a not so distant clearing was the dead man's smoking car. _Maybe he might have something else to pet,_ thought Lennie, _like a puppy or a piece of velvet..._

But all Lennie saw as he opened the car door was a briefcase and a shiny pocket knife lying on the dash as a warning to car thieved. Mesmerized. Lennie picked it up and marveled at its shining beauty.

He smiled. "Oh, wow! George will love to see this!" he said excitedly as he slammed the car door shut and began to follow the highway.


	5. Chapter 5

After the men had left the ranch for good they had looked for work elsewhere. Crooks had gone off by himself into parts unknown and Curley had gone off to live in one of the big cities of the time, trying to remarry. George, Slim, Carlson, Candy and Whit were the only men who had stayed together. And, although it had taken them awhile, they had gotten a job at a factory.

In order for their job positions to be secure they all had to show up for work bright and early Monday through Saturday. It had taken some getting used to(especially for Slim who, up until then had been used to running things) but George had adjusted. Today, however, was a bright Sunday morning and for now, the world was his.

Usually the guys all went out fishing or did something fun, but today they all sat in the small living room of their cabin watching a static TV and drinking moonshine. Candy's dog laid on the floor, taking a nap and the men tried to make out any picture on the old TV.

Just the nearly inaudible voice of the newscaster could be heard throughout the entire house. Apparently the whole little town was in a flurry of excitement over the killer that was surely wandering through the woods at that very minute. Whit turned to Carlson excitedly.

"Do ya think that they gonna catch that rouge son of a bitch?"

Carlson laughed. "Not if I got anythin' to say bout it. This town needs a little excitement; might just make livin' here bearable."

Slim sighed and twisted his long hair between his fingers, like he was thinking about something important. "Ain't nothing but a bunch of crap. They're just trying to get people scared, that's what they're doin'."

George took a sip from his mug. "Either way, don't see how it'll matter much in the long run. The law always catches guys like that."

Candy nodded. "Yeah. I reckon they'll have that nut caught and sent to jail in a couple of days."

"They say we should be more careful and stay inside. Think work'll be canceled?" Carlson asked hopefully.

Slim smiled ruefully. "Probably not. Reckon they'll make us work twice as hard for half the pay."

"In any case," George said, "I think we should be more careful. Can't hurt none."

Suddenly Candy's dog began barking madly.

"What? What is it?" Candy asked, griping the dog by the collar. Whit frowned.

"Take that damn animal outside!"

"B-but what about the killer?" he asked over Sugar's loud barking.

Slim yanked the dog away from him. "For Jesus sakes, Candy! He's bred to fight! I'll take 'im out!" he said as he hauled the Dobie out of the room. Candy followed him quickly. The rest of the men watched them go. Carlson finished his mug of moonshine and put it on the floor.

"Ya' know somethin'? I think that dog is makin' Slim go plum crazy."

George nodded. "I think we're all goin' crazy."

Whit pushed his glasses farther up onto his nose. "Yep. Slowly buy surely."


	6. Chapter 6

"Oh, c'mon Slim! He don' mean no harm! Jus' lemme get im' under control and then he can come back in the house." Candy said desperately as he tried to seize the Dobie from Slim.

Slim frowned, stopped walking and wiped his black hair away from his forehead. He turned to Candy, panting from the effort of having to haul Sugar around.

"Candy look. It's nothing personal, jus' that the barking is driving me fuckin' crazy!"

The old man took the dog's collar from Slim and sat down on the cold concrete. "Please, Slim. He can stay outta the house, jus' don' make me get ridda' him."

"Make you? I would never make you do anything like that." Slim said quietly, sitting down next to Candy.

"Yeah. Well...I'm _worried _Slim. It's been nearly a decade since George shot Lennie dead on the ranch. And now there's all these... these killins' and do ya-do ya think that-"

"Yeah. Maybe. Then again, maybe we're all crazy. It's probably just a coincidence."

Candy rubbed the stump of his wrist, were his hand used to be. "Or maybe he's back...for revenge."

Slim shrugged and rose to his feet. With a painful grunt he rubbed his knobby knees. "Bad knees. But weather the killer is Lennie Smalls or not, I don' figure he'd be the kind to seek revenge. He ain't no Curley. And that boy loved George like a brohter."

Candy sighed. "Do you really believe that?"

The tall, slender man paused a minute then nodded. "Yeah. I do." the Dobie began growling and foaming at the mouth. Candy's grip tightened on his collar.

"You better get on inside. Wouldn't want the Prince of the Ranch to catch cold."

Slim chuckled quietly. "Not no more, Candy. Not no more." then he turned and went back into the cabin. Candy hardly heard him over Sugar's insane barking.

The dog was now dragging Candy slowly across the deserted street and into the nearby forest.

"No! No Sugar! Heel! Stop!" the old man shouted desperately as his grip on the collar loosened and the dog ran off into the forest. His barking was persistent for the next few seconds, as Candy regained his footing, then became a painful whine.

The old man's heart stopped. "Sugar?! Sugar?!" there came no response from the shadowy forest. Candy desperately ran in the direction of the whines but before he could get into the coolness of the forest, a giant hand stopped him.

A dirty, grimy-tasting hand covered his mouth with a very tight grip that was almost painful. A few feet away from the forest's edge he saw the carcass of Sugar lying on the grass, motionless. The hand released his mouth and a desperate voice whispered in his ear.

"George? Do ya know where George is?" the voice was slightly stupid-sounding. Candy recognized it at once.

"Lennie? What're you doin' here? You was supposed to be kilt."

He felt the Lennie's giant frame sigh and then chuckle. "Oh, good. You're not gonna yell. I just wanna find George. You know where he is?"

He nodded. "But why do ya wanna know? Slim said you didn't mean no harm but-"

"Slim? I know that name...jeez. Only I forgot from where..." Lennie said as his face twisted in thought his grip on Candy lessened.

The old man backed away from him, terrified then pointed at his dead dog. "Look at that! You killed my dog! Pretty bad for a man who don' mean no harm!"

Lennie's face went blank and he reached into his pocket and brought out the dead puppy. His large hands began stroking it feverishly. "Now don' you go yellin'! I jus' wanted to pet it but it-well it bit me. So I hit it-jus' a little. Then it was dead. I didn' do nothin'!"

Candy backed away slowly, back to the house. "You're sick in the head, Lennie Smalls."

The giant shook his head. "Nah. I ain't. But if you tell George, then I won' get to tend them rabbits. And me and George are gonna go live off the fat of the lan'!"

"No," Candy said, "George ain't interested in that kinda stuff no more. He shot you Lennie. He killed you. He didn't want you no more."

The big man started towards him, shaking his head. Candy began running back to the cabin, but Lennie caught him and hauled him back into the shelter of the forest.

"You ain't gonna get away, cause if you do then I won' get to tend them rabbits." Lennie kept repeating over and over again. Candy squirmed, trying to free himself of Lennie's death-grip, but it was impossible. It just made Lennie more desperate to quiet him.

Once Candy began kicking Lennie in the shin area, Lennie looked around for something to silence the old man and remembered the knife in his pocket. It was sharp.

Quickly Lennie brought the knife out of his pocket and thrust it through Candy's spinal cord and twisted it. The old man stopped moving instantly and he smiled, relieved at having kept his secret a little longer. Dropping the old man to the ground next to his dog, he began to pet the puppy again and walked towards the cabin. George's cabin.


	7. Chapter 7

By the time Slim had finally come back in the cabin George and the rest of the men were playing blackjack. Slim took his place at the table.

"I think Candy's gonna be okay. Should be back in a little while after he quiets that dog down." the other men grunted in response, completely immersed in their card game. Slim sighed and reached over to take a sip out an abandoned beer can.

As Whit's turn came around he pushed his glasses up on his nose. He smiled slyly and proclaimed, "Hit me." George shrugged and dealt him a card.

Whit's smile faded and he slapped his cards on the table. "Fuck! Thought I had it!" The sound of Sugar's whining came echoing through the window. Carlson turned.

"Now whatdda suppose that is?"

Slim shrugged. "Probably jus' two cats fuckin' each other. Nothin' to worry about."

George re dealt the cards and looked from Carlson to Slim.

"Yeah," Carlson said, "you'd know somethin' bout that, wouldn't you?"

Whit laughed. George rolled his eyes. "Jus' because your gay don' mean that ya fuck cats, Carlson." he said.

Whit turned to him. "How would you know about that queer shit, George ol' buddy?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but Slim cut him off. "It's fine, George." he said as his spidery fingers twisted his black hair.

Carlson looked angry now. "What? 'It's fine George?! How is it fine that you like to be involved with _men, _Slim? How is that fine!"

Before he could answer a loud crash came from outside. Whit looked around nervously.

"What was that?"

"Probably the killer!" Carlson said excitedly as he jumped up out of his seat. "Ima go get my Luger!" and he ran off down the hall and into his room.

Whit looked sick suddenly. George turned to him. "It's probably not the killer, you know." Whit nodded then turned to Slim who was still playing with his long black hair thoughtfully.

"Listen, Slim. I'm sorry."

He looked up, his eyes confused. "Huh? What?"

As Carlson came running back down the hall, his trusty Luger in tow Whit said again, "I'm sorry Slim."

Slim's long, thin face smiled. It reminded George of a time when they were back on the ranch, and Slim had still been a skinner.

"S'fine Whit. Jus' do me a favor."

Whit swallowed nervously. "Y-yeah?"

"Get the hell outta my house." Slim said with a chuckle. Another crash came from the outside. Carlson grabbed Whit's shoulder and the two of them went outside. Once they were gone Slim's smile immediately disappeared into a look of exhaustion.

George sat on the other end of the table. Through the window the sun was beginning to set. Suddenly Slim sat up and his calm eyes stared at George.

"Wh-what is it Slim?"

"Oh nothin'...jus' Candy sure has been gone a long time..."

"You really think that L-L..." had George's grief gotten so horrible that he couldn't even say Lennie's name?

"Lennie?" Slim asked sympathetically.

George nodded. A lump was forming in his throat. It seemed like all of the grief that he had ever felt was about to pour out of him. His eyes teared up. Like they had the day that he had shot Lennie.

Slim sighed then patted his shoulder. "Yeah. I do. Like I told Candy, if it really is him, then he won't come after you to kill you. He loved ya too much for that."

George nodded again. "Yep. I know. I-I guess that I really loved that crazy bastard too. He was like my brother...."

"And you miss him. S'nothin to be ashamed of." From the outside there came a loud shot. Slim looked up and walked towards the window and gazed out. George wiped his nose and eyes on his jacket sleeve.

Slim turned back to him. "I think that I better go and see if they're okay." he said as he walked to the door.

George called after him, "Slim, be careful. If it is him...don' make him mad."

The other man nodded then went out the door.


	8. Chapter 8

Slim hurried outside and slammed the door. A scene of chaos greeted him. Whit's nose was pouring blood and Carlson was struggling to shoot the giant Lennie with his Luger. Slim's cool gray eyes widened.

"Carlson!" he called out desperately, "Stop! He don' know no better!" he said as he tried to help a sobbing Whit back into the cabin.

Carlson ignored him. "There ain't no way that I'm takin' no orders from you no more! He hurt Whit!" he called back. Lennie smacked Carlson on the back of the head, knocking him out then started for Slim.

"No, Lennie!" Slim gasped as Lennie wrapped his large hands around his skinny throat. Slim gagged and choked. His once calm eyes filled with tears and his face started to turn pink. "Lennie! I-I can'-" he gasped -"breath."

Lennie's half-decayed face looked surprised. "You won' tell George?"

Desperately Slim shook his head. He was seeing spots; white and black spots swam before his eyes.

Off in the distance, Whit sobbed. "Leave 'im alone you crazy bastard!"

Lennie released his grip one Slim's gawky neck. He fell onto the cold grass gagging. Choking on his own spit. He looked up at Lennie.

"W-w-whadda want?"

The giant man's face lit up. "For me an' George to live off the fat of the lan'! And to look after them rabbits. Wait! Ain't you the man who gave me that puppy?!"

Slim nodded. He could feel a ring of bruises beginning to form around his neck. Inconspicuously Slim began to edge back towards the cabin. He either had three choices: he could run back to the cabin himself, try and save Whit, or try and save Carlson.

Without hesitation Slim got to his feet and ran to Whit.

"Wait! Gotta get m'glasses." Whit said as Slim hauled him up. Lennie was now preoccupied with Carlson.

Sighing he bent down and got the battered glasses then raced for the cabin door.


	9. Chapter 9

George sighed and looked at the clock on the wall for about the hundredth time. They had been gone a long time. Too long. As if answering his prayers Slim and Whit burst through the door, both panting very hard.

Slim shoved a sobbing Whit into George's arms and locked the door. His thin chest rose and fell as he gasped for air, griping his slightly bruised throat. George gently placed Whit in one of the chairs then went up to Slim.

"What the hell's goin' on round here?"

Slim's eyes were wide. "He's here, George. Don' know how, but he's here." a frantic knocking came from the door. Slim turned. "Carlson? Is that you?"

Carlson's frantic voice answered from the other side. "Yes! Open the door!" Slim quickly unlocked the door and locked it again.

"Who's back?" George asked as Carlson went over to console Whit.

Whit's shaky voice answered him. "I-it's Lennie."

Carlson looked at George. "I thought you shot that crazy bastard."

George shook his head. "He wasn't no crazy bastard. He was just a bit... _slow."_

"Yeah, well whatever he was he nearly killed Whit. And Slim." Carlson said, in a rage.

George turned to Slim, who was still having trouble breathing and gripping his neck. "But he don' mean no harm. You probably jus' gave him a good scare."

Whit shook his head and pointed at Slim. "He was tryin' to reason with him. Lennie was scared that we would tell you somethin'. Said he jus' wanted for you and him to go an' live off the fat of the land and raise rabbits."

Carlson nodded. Suddenly another loud knock came from the door.

"Candy?" George asked hopefully. Slim shook his head.

"N-no. He's d-d-dead..."

Lennie's voice came through the door. "George! Please come out. I jus' wanna see you again."

George made a move to open the door but Slim stopped him. "You open that door, and we're all dead."

"But I thought you said Lennie wouldn't never try and kill me."

"Not intentionally. All those people he killed by accident, cause he didn't want you to find out what he done or they threatened you..."

Lennie's voice came through the door again. George turned to Carlson. "You got your Luger?"

Carlson nodded and handed it carefully to him. "Jus' don' miss."


	10. Chapter 10

Slim stepped aside and let George unlock the door. Carlson helped Whit hide under the table as the door creaked open. The giant Lennie stood in the doorway, smiling.

"Ahh... George I knew you wouldn' let me out here." he said as he stepped into the house. George backed away. He looked at Slim, who was standing a safe distance away in case he needed any help.

Lennie's smile faded. "What's wrong, George?"

"Y-you hurt people Lennie. Hurt 'em bad." he said as his fingers ran over the Luger that he held behind his back.

Lennie's face become twisted with grief. "No...no George. I ain't done nothin' bad."

George nodded. "Yes you have Lennie. And you know it."George raised the Luger and pointed it straight between Lennie's eyes.

Lennie looked desperately around the room for some salvation but found none. He growled then angrily hit the side of George's head, hard. The Luger went flying and George was sent sprawling on the floor. Lennie looked sad.

"Now look what you made me done George!" he said as he knelt down beside his friend. Nearby the Luger hit the floor at Slim's feet. Slowly he bent down and picked it up. Out of the corner of his eye Lennie saw the man aim it at his head.

He tackled Slim, making him drop the gun. Carlson crawled out from under the table to retrieve it as Lennie began pounding away at Slim, each of his monstrous fists hitting him like a sledgehammer. Slim felt his bones breaking, his ribs cracking as Lennie beat away at him like a punching bag; nearly felt his brain hit the back of his skull.

Suddenly a voice called from the other side of the room. Carlson's voice. "You let him go!" he said, pointing the Luger at Lennie. Whit was busy trying to revive George, mumbling how Lennie was killing Slim; how Carlson was about to get killed. George's eyes popped open and he stared at the scene before him.

As Lennie charged at Carlson who was holding the Luger, he called, "Lennie stop! You'll kill 'im!" but Lennie didn't stop and gave Carlson one last good whack on the side of the head, making a loud cracking noise. Whit gasped as Carlson fell to the floor, dead.

Lennie turned to Whit. "Ain't no one gonna hurt George." he said as he took the Luger from Carlson's hands and shot him.

Whit's fell to the floor, his glasses askew.


	11. Chapter 11

"No Lennie! Ain't no one hurtin' me! No one never was!"

But Lennie wasn't listening anymore. He made his way over to George. There came a little cry from across the room.

"George...gotta get to the doc's...." Slim cried as he cradled his broken face in his hands, "hurt me...bad..."

"I know, I workin' on it!" George called back. He turned to Lennie. "You've hurt people. It's been ten years since I had to shoot you. Things have changed. I still love you like a brother, you crazy bastard, but you gotta leave me be."

Without warning Lennie began to sob and he pulled George into a hug. "I'm s-s-sorry! Didn't mean to hurt no one!" he cried.

His grip on George was painfully tight and for a second, he thought that Lennie might accidentally snap his spine in half. "Lennie," he gasped, "you have to let me go-I can't breath!" the giant man's grip only became tighter, his sobs only became louder. As George tried to take in a breath he felt his ribs break. Pain shot through him and he gasped.

"I'm sorry George! Didn't wanna hurt no one!" he repeated. He hugged George a little tighter.

George's eyes searched the room for anything or anyone that could help him. Whit was dead, so was Carlson. And now Slim's blank, yet ever calm eyes stared at him as the rest of his life's blood leaked out of him. Suddenly, he felt his back give way, as his spine snapped in two.


	12. Chapter 12

Lennie still held George's limp body for a while before gently laying it on the floor of the cabin. At least he had died with his eyes closed.

Lennie still stared at his best friends corpse for a long time, watching the blood drain from its face until grief overtook him. Uncontrollably he began to sob. He had just been giving George a hug and now...

He was dead. No one was left to comfort Lennie. He wiped his eyes and began investigating the room for someone, anyone who was still alive. Carlson laid on the floor with his eyes closed as if he were in a deep sleep, Whit's eyes were open and somewhat glazed over and the back of his head was smoking and Slim was blankly staring at him as he bathed in a pool of his own blood. And there was the Luger.

Lennie stumbled over to it and picked the gun up. He held it carefully as he brought it over to where George was laying and then he sat down. He swallowed as he put the gun in his decaying mouth. He stole one more look at George.

"Jus' you an' me," he whispered as his spit began to leak down the barrel of the Luger, "jus' you an' me."


	13. Chapter 13

In case you are curious about how in the world I thought of a story such as this, it all began in English class after reading the final chapter _Of Mice and Men. _Me and a group of friends were talking and one was like, 'It would be funny if Lennie was like Michael Myers and just came back from the dead and became a serial killer.' and another was like, 'Yeah and he'd just go around petting dead puppies and asking people if they were George.' So my mind doesn't just think of these sick and odd stories on its own, although I did make up most of the details.

I would also like to just say that I obviously didn't make up these characters. John Steinbeck did, and I give full credit to him. Although I did think up my own personalities, behaviors and appearances for the characters, credit goes to him for their original creation.

In case you are also confused about what a Luger is, it's a gun. Just a gun. I don't know whether its a rifle or revolver because, as you can see, I'm not very gun savvy.

My last thought is that I'm very sorry if I somehow offended you personally by making or referencing to the fact that Slim was a homosexual. I don't know why I always imagined him this way, but I did. This was not a personality trait originally given to the character by Steinbeck, just a detail added by my sick and twisted mind.

Anyways, enough of my rambling. Thanks for reading this story and there are many more to come.


End file.
